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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28018368">happy ending</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/iggycakes/pseuds/iggycakes'>iggycakes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Gen, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:41:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,808</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28018368</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/iggycakes/pseuds/iggycakes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Warrior of Light goes to Amaurot alone. But Emet-Selch's there.</p><p>(Sin Eater/Lightwarden Timeline)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Original Character(s), Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>happy ending</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A commission for hot gerudo mom aka @/ValoraKhaati on twitter.<br/>Thank you for letting me write another one of your characters ;u;</p><p>To the tune of "happy ending, my ass" by suggi</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It felt like a dream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she wanted to hurl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Light churned in her stomach, an unbearable burst of energy slamming against the walls in her gut. It swirled, round and round, seeping into the fabric of aether that held her together, stopping the flow of elements, and overloading them with light. The sensation was insufferable. She had never felt so sick in her life. Not even after chugging four cups of bad coffee trying to finish a paper after deciding to scrap twenty pages of an old draft and completely re-thinking her thesis Just To Prove a Fucking Point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tem sluggishly pulled herself across the road (it was twice, maybe even three times the size of a normal road), as tall shades looked on at her with curiosity, but not enough curiosity to actually approach her. She was frustrated– frustrated that she was witnessing what may be the most impressive feat of creation done by aetherical means and she was not anywhere tip-top shape. In fact, the shape she was in could, potentially, be categorized as the </span>
  <em>
    <span>worst </span>
  </em>
  <span>shape she had ever been in. It was telling, considering she wasn’t great at taking care of herself in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On top of that her folio was completely fucked up from the trip getting here. She didn’t even know when it happened. She was usually so careful. All she needed to do was pop a shield and she thought she did, but as soon as she entered the city and pulled it out, the pages were all drenched and ruined. As if things could get worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d be dead in a matter of hours. Or rather, in a state that could be easily described as “better off dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She would’ve given up right there and then, but when she looked down again, her folio had been magically repaired. Tem blinked, incredulous. Did she just have a fucking stroke or something? What happened? Did she even have time to think about it too hard?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, Tem spent hours mapping out what she could and looked down at her sketches with palpable dissatisfaction. She didn’t know how much time she had left, but it wasn’t much. There was no way she’d be able to explore every nook and cranny of this city. There was no time to detail in minutiae the purpose of all of these buildings– the jobs these amaurotines once held– though the few who would speak to her and answer her questions were more than happy to tell her about their once glittering city, they could never tell her enough. She wanted so much more than they could give her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, the shades spoke about Amaurot with love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way they lived was beautiful and fascinating. The way they manipulated aether with such ease, as if it was just part of their genetic makeup. Some were more talented than others, obviously, but even a simple clerk could do feats that would take her years more training and studying to accomplish. They breathed aether, felt it line the atmosphere and permeate through every object, leaving its scent and touch on all existing things. They could pull out what they needed and mold the aether into any desired shape, just with a touch or a simple snap of the finger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the amaurotines spoke highly of those in Akademia. Of the fourteen– thirteen now– who composed their Convocation. Of their beloved Architect whose talent and connection to the lifestream was uncontested. It seemed self-serving, considering this imitation city was, in fact, built by Emet-Selch himself for the sole purpose (it felt like) to antagonize her and make her last few hours on this star a torturous undertaking. But proof was in the concept. It wasn’t real, but it was as real as it could possibly be. It was a fleeting dream of nocturne, buried at the bottom of an untraveled seascape, basking in a type of aetherial energy she’s never felt before. By all means, </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amaurot was </span>
  <em>
    <span>real– </span>
  </em>
  <span>by all standards, it existed. Arguing that it </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>real would force her to acknowledge that maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing </span>
  </em>
  <span>she knew was real.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would be just like Emet-Selch to put such a fascinating piece of study in front of her and then do absolutely nothing to sate her curiosity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pages of her folio blurred. The words began to look more and more like nonsensical scribbles. Where was she? What was she doing again? Heavens forfend. She needed to keep herself together just a bit longer. She had to hold on. There had to be more she could still do. There had to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tem buckled forward, unable to hold it any longer. Her innards lurched as she threw up, spitting an ungodly amount of Light and yet she still felt heavy as it continued to threaten to escape her. Her physical form was hanging on by a thread. Whatever Ryne did to delay the inevitable, it was fading now, and her own aether was too weak now to overpower the Light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She struggled to get back on her feet and attempted to use what little of her aether she had left to patch herself up. It helped only marginally. Tem focused ahead. Just a little bit longer. Please.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She made her way to the nearest building, one of the largest ones she’s come across so far. It seemed to sit at the city’s center, so she knew it had to be important. Some kind of capitol. Tem dragged herself over, eventually stumbling close to the entrance. She leaned against the door’s aperture. Warm brown and gold colours blurred together, erasing a figure she could barely make out in the distance. It spun and spun until her vision lost shape entirely and the world came crashing down once again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Such a pity,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emet-Selch’s voice was full of disappointment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked down at the pathetic figure crumpled on the floor and slowly knelt down. His hand reaching towards them, fingers gently brushing the top of their head as white locks rustled slightly. A pity, indeed, that the mighty of Warrior of Light has sunk this low. Void of the curiosity and passion he had grown quite fond of. Admittedly and begrudgingly. Her hair was soft, drained of the color it once had, shining only a bright, pure white. Emet-Selch didn’t want to look at her, not really, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had expected to feel some sort of triumph, some kind of satisfaction, but there was none of that. And Emet-Selch was too proud to admit how he actually felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he was finally ready to pull away, something grabbed at the hem of his robes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tem’s essence was bursting at the seams with Light. It was hard to look at, to see her image lose itself in the mess. The frown on Emet’s face only deepened as bright eyes looked up at him with futile perseverance. An expression that reminded him of something he had once held so dearly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still have more questions for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How could she sound so arrogant at a time like this?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tem could barely hold herself together. She wasn’t even sure she was still holding on in the first place. Her vision had completely clouded over with light, to the point that even Emet-Selch’s silhouette was gone. She didn’t even have the strength to laugh. This is where it would end, then? At the bottom of the ocean? Alone?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What was it all for?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the haze, she held out her other hand, handing over her folio to the only person left who could listen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What were the chances he would though? Slim to none, but slim was her only option after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tem felt a weight leave her grip and some mild relief washed over her. She could pretend. She could believe that Emet-Selch was here and would remember her work. It was the least he could do, right? Surely, she had enough meaning in his eyes to deserve that much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wishful thinking? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tem slumped to the ground. The swirl of thoughts disintegrated almost as soon as she thought them. It was a vast Empty, with a sky that stretched into infinite space, forlorn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Emet-Selch could see the last remnants of her beautiful soul disappear into the void of light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked down at her folio, opening it mindlessly and flipping through pages worth of notes and doodles of her entire adventure in the First. It was incredibly detailed, meticulous. He recalled a number of their conversations, almost entirely transcribed on these pages. Words filled every inch, leaving not a space blank.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dry lips pressed together as he continued. No matter how many notes she took down, no matter how much research she did, there were still just as many questions to answer. A simple, endless curiosity. Nothing sated her. It was a nuisance, really. Dance around his answers he did, but she fought through every gap in his stories, begging for more. And even when he didn’t want to talk, when he didn’t want to recall some of the more painful details, she drew it out of him regardless. With that face that was both so familiar and estranged from him. He wondered what it would look like if she smiled. As </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>once did. Would it appease him the way he wished? Or would it all just hurt evermore?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, he arrived at the end, where notes had once been obsessively ordered, it was now chaos. Doodles of buildings in Amaurot drawn haphazardly with notes and questions that barely formed cohesive thoughts. He struggled to parse the thoughts behind the garble. He could hear her voice in his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What was everyday life like in this city?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What are your favourite spots?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Did you have people you cared about here? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Do you miss it?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is that wh-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The last few pages were dedicated to him. Dozens of questions about Amaurot and how his life was here. It must have been beautiful. Yes, it was. You must have loved this city. Yes, he did. His grip around the folio tightened.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Those final words trailed off the page.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emet-Selch stood up. He felt the aether shift, as if everything in the vicinity was suddenly at standstill, and the light from Tem’s body expanded. A cocoon of light ready to erupt. A metamorphosis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The familiar and nostalgic shade of her soul just gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t watch. He couldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he could feel it, clear as day. The aether pricked at him, threatening to push him out. There was space here only for the Light and he was an intruder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped away from it as it grew, resisting one last urge to turn around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, Emet-Selch raised his hand and snapped his fingers.</span>
</p>
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